What She Wants You to See
by apinchofpixiedust
Summary: She was raised in the Capitol to protect her from the Games but became even more entangled than anyone could have imagined; following life from a young girl to the flames of rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes

She can ruin your faith with her casual lies  
And she only reveals what she wants you to see  
She hides like a child, but she's always a woman to me."

-Billy Joel

* * *

"Ouch, Mommy!"

"Don't fuss, sweetie, don't you want to be pretty like the big girls?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"That's right. Now, hold still and let me finish these curls."

"Yes, Mommy."

After another eternity of yanking, twisting and burning, the little girl began to wonder if any of her hair could survive this torment.

"There we are," her smiling mother consoled, "Now don't you look like a gem! Give me a big smile, my pretty girl!"

Effie swiveled in her seat and beamed, and Mrs. Trinket marveled at her child. At ten years old, she glowed with the innocence of childhood and gave off an air that she would likely stay that way. Her mother would see to that. It would be easy to turn a blind eye toward the cruelty of Panem, being a resident of District One, but Mrs. Trinket had some understanding of the evils of the government and the Games.

In all honesty, she didn't care about the poverty of the lower Districts. She didn't care about the annual quietus of twenty-three children. What concerned her gravely was the safety of her Effie, for whom she would rather die than watch suffer in a bloody arena.

Mrs. Trinket shook her head quickly and smiled again. "My little diamond," she cooed, patting her golden hair. She reached out her hand, and the child took it in both her own.

"I love you, Mommy."

"And I love you," to stop herself from becoming overly emotional, she quickly added, "How about we add some sparkles?"

"Yes, please!" Effie exclaimed, sitting back down quickly. Carefully, her mother began to dust her hair with the shimmering powder. "Can I have some on my face, too?" she begged eagerly.

"Certainly, dear."

"And on my face?"

"Anywhere you like," she whispered.

Mrs. Trinket had protected her daughter with the ferocity of a wild cat. She loved the way Effie still called her "Mommy," still allowed herself to be dressed and pampered like a doll. The only way to keep her safe was to keep her blissfully innocent about the harsh cruelty of the world around her. Effie was still very much a child, and a child can be hidden.

There was a knock at the door. "Felicity?"

"Come in, dear," she answered.

Gape walked in, smiling at his family. "Look at you, my beautiful girls! Come here, Effie, let me see you!"

Effie jumped out of her chair and gave her father a twirl in her powder-pink dress, the same color as her mother's.

Gape scooped her up and spun her around, "You are the most perfect little girl in the whole wide world; do you know that?" She giggled, and he set her down. "Now, go tell the new Avox boy-"

"Raff," supplied Felicity.

"Yes, tell him to help you into your new shoes. We'll be off soon."

"Yes, Daddy!" and she ran off down the hall.

Gape walked over to his wife and pulled a thin box from his coat. "I have something for you to wear today." He opened it, revealing a choker of emeralds and chocolate diamonds. "I had it custom-made to match your eyes." He stood behind her and clasped the necklace in place. "You make green and pink look amazing."

"Thank you," she whispered distractedly.

Gape tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't even know. I've just been thinking lately that every year," she paused to take a deep breath, "Every year, she's one closer to having her name in that bowl."

"Felicity, listen to me." He turned her face towards his. "We have nothing to worry about. Our little girl is perfectly safe. You know as well as I do that there are at least half a dozen every year who have been born and raised to do this. Think of Shimmer and Ovid. If nothing else, they won't let her."

Her eyes began to water again. "I know, it's just—"

"Trust me," he smiled and hugged her calmly. "Everything will be fine."

They heard a fast-paced clip-clip-clip of tiny heels. "I understand how much this scares you," he whispered, "but please believe me. In a few hours, this will all be over. We'll all come home together, go to sleep, and get ready for the presentation ceremony tomorrow. And we will watch that abomination with our little girl standing right between us."

"Look at me! Look at me!" Effie twirled again, covered in lace and sparkles.

"You're perfect, darling," her father smiled. "Now, let's not be late."

* * *

Her parents walked her to the crowd of children and told her to smile and follow along. Her father informed her this would all be over very quickly, and then he would buy her an ice cream. Effie knew the routine. She would sit with her parents and some other adults until the names of this year's candidates were called.

"Why do we all have to come out here?"

"Those are just the rules, my love."

"Does everyone know who they're going to pick?"

"Yes, everyone knows."

"Then why do we have the big bowl of names?"

Gape laughed, "Because this is all just some silly business that silly people in charge have decided to make a rule." They began climbing the stairs to their section, where they would view the Reaping.

"Smile, darling!" whispered her mother. Effie spun and smiled to show she was obeying. Felicity's face sank as she glanced around the stadium floor, filling with a thousand well-dressed children, two of whom may never be seen again.

"Smile, darling," Gape mirrored. He took her hand and led her to the top tier of the seating, reserved for a few select members of the District. The seats were large and velvet, and the champagne tasted like costly celebration.

"Mr. and Mrs. Trinket! What a treat! Have a seat! Take a glass! Happy Hunger Games!"

They smiled and toasted. Mr. Trinket turned around, snapped for an Avox to bring out more hors d'oeuvres, and continued laughing with his colleagues.

"Now, Trinket, who is this precious little doll?" asked Mr. Lapworth, a high government official with whom Gape was recently acquainted.

"This, sir, is our little Effie," he replied. "Go on, darling, say hello."

Effie popped out of her seat, walked directly up to him and gave a dainty curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Effervescent Trinket."

Mrs. Lapworth clapped and placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Oh, would you just look at that? I just want to dress her up and do her hair!"

Felicity wondered for the briefest of instants if this was intended to be an underhanded insult.

A woman in a glittering, orange ensemble placed her hand on her chest. "Oh, how precious!"

Mr. Spectral, a manager of four or five of Mr. Trinket's jewelry boutiques asked, "Are you planning on training her professionally, sir?"

Lapworth cut him off. "Now, now, Spectral, you know we here in District One find the idea of prematurely training our tributes abhorrent!" This gained a chorus of chortling.

Felicity laughed at that, "Oh, I don't think we could stand to deprive another family of such pride!" Everyone laughed along wither her, allowing her to sigh with relief.

"Speaking of," chimed a high-pitched voice, "has anyone heard the plans for next year?"

"I've heard Seanna and Tyrus Cloud, the twins, are up for it."

"Tyrus? Not if my boy has anything to say about it."

The group laughed again.

"Oh! Here we go!"

Hammil Honeyman, the Capitol representative to District One, arrived on stage, waving his arms to thunderous applause. He held up his index fingers in rhythm with the children chanting, "We're number one! We're number one!" The audience laughed.

"Hello to my favorite district!" more cheering. Under the bright lights, his large, yellow hair seemed to glow. The effect was enhanced by his metallic gold suit.

"He looks like one of your necklaces, Trinket," Mr. Lapworth commented. They chuckled. As Effie hopped into her mother's lap.

"Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for, the moment where we will see who has the honor and privilege of representing District One in these 50th Hunger Games!"

The audience cheered and jumped and clapped.

"As you all know," he took a dramatic pause and a charismatic scan of the audience, "this year is no ordinary Games. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the second ever Quarter Quell!"

The roars were deafening.

"And to celebrate this historical event, there has been a change this year."

Anticipating silence.

"This year, and this year only, we will not be sending two prestigious competitors to the arena."

Outrage! Why? No! Boo!

"This year," another pause, "four of you have the honor to defend your District!"

The crowd exploded with excitement.

Felicity turned to face Gape. She gave him a questioning expression, to which he simply shrugged and shook his head. These sorts of things could never be predicted, and it was no more bizarre than the first Quell's twist.

Hammil walked over to the Reaping bowl. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, our first female champion is," he reached in and pulled out a sheet, "Gleam Dynbrill!"

Gleam was fifteen and stout but had a beautiful face and demeanor. Mentally swift but physically slow, she wouldn't survive the Cornucopia.

"I volunteer!" shouted Shimmer, and the audience cheered with approval. She would be this year's victor. She had the speed of a cheetah and strength of a bear. Her skin glowed like the sun under the camera lighting that followed her to the stage.

"Excellent!" Hammil took Shimmer's hand and held it in the air. "Now, for our first male," he reached into the other bowl. "Flash Ogilby!"

At seventeen, Flash lived up to his name in terms of wit and physical ability. He was a Career candidate, which allowed Ovid to wait to volunteer until the next candidate was called.

Instead of maintaining a boy-girl pattern, Hammil remained at the boy's names and extracted Burnish Wade, who was young, feeble and immediately replaced by Ovid. After the rounds of applause ceased for the males, Hammil returned to the girls.

"And now, the grand finale, our fourth and final tribute for this Quarter Quell is," he reached in the bowl and fished around for a moment, gaining a comedic yet apprehensive response from the thousands of viewers, "Downey Hayes!"

Felicity gasped at the same time the cameras paneled to the girl's confused, bright-eyed face. She knew the Hayes family. They had dinner not two weeks ago. Downy and Effie played tea party together. For just an instant, every surrounding surface displayed the naive twelve-year-old, desperately seeking answers.

"I volunteer!"

The cameras switched to Gleam, who walked to the stage with resolve. There was a tense hush. No one knew what to say, what to think. Evading the situation, Hammil quickly announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, your District One champions!"

There was cheering and clapping and hooting all around as the tributes were whisked off stage and to the back room. Hammil waved himself off, and the fortunately remaining children began to make their ways back to their families.

Felicity sat in shock for a moment as the other members of the party began discussing prospects of the four tributes.

"Four?"

"Can you believe it?"

"I never would have thought of such a thing!"

"Well, this just gives us a bigger buffet to choose from, am I right?"

If Gleam hadn't said anything, Downy would be on her way to the Capitol. She would be prepped, dressed, presented and killed at only the age of twelve. This poor child, who played with her daughter in the summer, would have been just another tally in the Games' death toll.

"Mommy!" squealed Effie. "Mommy, you're hurting me!" Felicity realized she had been holding her too tightly and quickly let go. "I'm sorry, dear."

Effie was quickly becoming concerned. "It's alright, Mommy. I'm ok. Why are you so sad?"

Felicity could hardly speak. "I love you, Effie. I love you so much."

Gape stood up and helped his wife follow suit. He addressed the group with a cordial, "Thank you for the lovely evening, sirs and madams, and I shall see you tomorrow evening!" He then gathered up their lace-adorned child with one arm and draped the other around Felicity. "Come on, my beautiful girls, let's not be upset. Effie, do you want to get a treat?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

* * *

That night, after Effie had been tucked into her plush, oversized bed, her parents retreated to their room. Felicity collapsed onto the bed and sobbed.

"Sweetheart," consoled Gape, "everything's fine. She's safe. She's not going anywhere."

She didn't answer, didn't say a word. She just curled against him and cried. For the worst moment of her life, she saw herself loosing Effie, her baby, her little diamond. She saw her short life coming to a bloody, violent end, all alone in the arena. She cried for her daughter, who was brought into this hell of a world. She cried for her husband, who would have felt the same searing pain. But more than anything else, she cried for Gleam, the round-faced girl who sacrificed her own life so that a stranger might live.

"Gape?"

"Yes?"

"I want to move."

For less than a second, he considered arguing, or even discussing this abrupt decision, but instead he asked, "Where?"

"The Capitol, within the year, before the next Reaping. Tributes don't come from the Capitol; she'll be safe there."

Gape kissed his wife on her forehead and sighed. "We'll begin arrangements tomorrow."

**Hello! May I simply say that I adore Effie? I wanted to explore her background more, since she didn't receive nearly enough character development in the books. I plan on spending just a few chapters on her youth, then moving more into the pink-haired lady we all know and love. Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Random haikus? Let me know!**

-Elle


	2. Chapter 2

The presentation ceremony had been borderline ludicrous that year. Twice the tributes, twice the fun seemed to be the reverberating motto. The Trinkets were part of the District's most elite screening parties for the Games, which had hardly taken a moment of pause since the Reaping. They gathered around with friends, or the closest things they had, and watched the process from start to finish every year. After the initial interviews, most would begin making bets.

On the day of the interviews, everyone gathered at the Trinket's estate to watch the process on their wall-sized television. The excitement of the viewers combined with the bubbliness brought on by the elaborate cocktails produced an atmosphere that could sweep away even the harshest critic of the Games.

The opening music began to play, and anticipation rose in the room.

"Turn it up!" someone cried, "I can't hear!"

"Would you look at that," commented another. "Look at that young man they have on stage! He can hardly buckle his shoes!"

"Oh, you're exaggerating. He's probably just around twenty."

"I like our other man better! He's always the one to do it."

"You haven't even heard this one speak!"

Mr. Trinket analyzed the young man who was announced as Ceasar Fickerman. From an advertising perspective, he understood why Ceasar would be the new announcer. The second Quarter Quell needed to attract a young viewing audience; it needed to be fresh. This charismatic boy was exactly the face the Capitol needed.

Felicity tapped his shoulder, disrupting his thought. "Would you look at his face?" she giggled. "That boy's green! Look at his hair and mouth. That's ridiculous."

He shrugged, "Capitol fashion." In an undertone he added, "You'd better get used to it."

"I don't think it's silly," chimed Lurid Duncain. She was sporting an extravagant, triangular gown, covered in faux gems that made Mr. Trinket cringe. "I think it shows that they know how to live life! We're only here for a while; might as well enjoy it!"

This earned her a round of good-natured laughter before attention was brought back to the screen.

"Look, look! Shimmer's up first!"

Another good move, thought Gape. Start off strong. Make a good first impression.

Effie wove through the crowd to find her mother, and grabbed onto her skirt.

"Honey, why don't you go play with the other children?"

"I want to watch!"

Felicity smiled at her daughter's inquiring nature and led her over to a plush sofa. "Sit on my lap," Effie did so eagerly.

"That was Shimmer," her mother reminded.

"Yes, I remember her."

Felicity quashed the lump in her throat, "And that's Gleam."

"I know her, too."

Gleam was precisely the opposite of Shimmer. Shimmer was tall with the body of a distance sprinter. Her sun-tanned skin and toned body showed her ability to withstand the elements. She had a sharp, angular face and a dangerous, alluring smile. There was no life in her eyes, only instinctual determination. Everyone knew it was illegal to train a tribute before the Games. Nobody cared when it came to people like her.

She would win by burning everyone around her.

Gleam would lose. Quickly.

She had likely never climbed a tree in her life and barely reached 160 centimeters. She had the look of someone who led a comfortable lifestyle, had no want of anything, but did not take any of this for granted. She was plump, in a maternal sort of way. She had a scholar's eyes and carried herself with poise and dignity. Engaging in fast-paced, witty banter with Ceasar, she was also becoming a crowd favorite.

But she would die.

Effie followed the interviews eagerly, absorbing as much as she could about the forty-eight tributes. It was very near the end, and the adults were laughing and debating and placing bets on their favorites. Not only were they asking who would win, but also "Who lasts more than three days?" "Who makes the best shelter?" "Ok, he won't make it to the end, but how many will he take out before he's gone?"

Everybody was so enthusiastic, particularly about Districts One, Two and Four. By the time the final tribute came on stage, hardly anyone was watching. Even her mother was caught up in conversation with a woman sitting next to her. When he came on stage, Effie sat up a little straighter, wanting to hear everything.

The woman noticed her interest and chimed, "Oh, darling, don't waste your time! District Twelve doesn't stand a chance!"

"Why not?"

She laughed heartily, "Why doesn't a fish walk? Because, dear, they just don't! Look, if you want to pick a tribute, make sure they're in One, Two or Four! Well, that's not always right, I think Six might have had a few… or was it Five? Anyway, don't make a silly decision!"

Effie turned back toward the screen. The other tributes at least made some effort to look presentable, engaging or otherwise desirable. He didn't. This boy was wearing a dark suit but was slouching in his seat, which made Effie cringe. He wasn't as old as Shimmer or Ovid, but he was older than many of the others. Unlike Gleam, he looked war-worn; despite his youth, he had seen more hardship than most. Effie looked into his grey eyes as best she could. She could tell he was exceedingly intelligent. He looked uncomfortable in the formal clothes as Ceasar, a boy around his own age with a massive superiority complex, asked about his family, his life back home, his girlfriend.

"Now tell me," Ceasar inquired brightly, "how do you feel about there being twice as many tributes this year's Games?"

The boy scoffed. "It won't make a bit of difference. They're just as stupid."

This took Effie and Ceasar aback. Were "they" the tributes or the Games, she wondered, or both. She considered this for a moment, and he walked off stage.

Effie looked over at the woman. "Who was the last boy? I missed his name."

"What, dear? Oh! Um," she thought for a minute, "Haytham… Haywood… Haymitch! That's the one."

She turned to face her mother. "I pick him."

The woman laughed at his. "Aren't you a bit too young to gamble, little pretty?"

"Yes, she is," replied her mother.

Effie shrugged. "If I was allowed to bet, I'd bet on him. He'll win."

The woman laughed again, "To each their own," and she spun off to other conversation.

* * *

Until this year, Effie had never paid much attention to the Games. They were just an annual occurrence that the adults celebrated that did not particularly concern her. People cheered when someone from their District was dominating and pouted when they were killed. It was a grown-up's game, and she was not involved.

This year, though, here eyes were glued to the screen. Her parents had to remind her to go to bed. She woke up early and focused ardently upon the images of the tributes. Rather than viewing the Games as an obligation, she nudged her parents out the door every morning and had to be pulled away from the daily viewing parties. When asked about her newfound interest, she replied simply that she wanted to find out what happened next. She was betting on her boy from District Twelve and was anxious to see what happened to him.

He had formed an alliance with the surviving girl from his District, which Effie found interesting. They made a good team, she noticed. If nothing else, they helped each other survive.

Gleam died the first day. Effie was told not to be sad.

"Yes, Mommy."

Fighting in the arena had lasted almost a week. No one was sure how much longer it would last. Of the original forty-eight tributes, twelve remained.

Eleven.

Traditionally, this constituted approximately three to four more days of Game play. By now, the gambling and debating was reaching a peak. The remaining tributes were all those on whom everyone was betting. A man was marking in a notepad, laughing as he went. The orange woman walked over to Effie and chuckled. "I have to hand it to you, dear, I didn't think your lad would last the first day."

Having no idea how to reply, Effie smiled and gave a giggle.

A stranger walked up and commented similarly, "Yes, you're parents mentioned your interest in that one. You must tell me why."

"She's just a child, Matte," the woman commented.

"But surely, Rosie," the man, evidently Matte, countered, "she's at an age where she can justify her decisions. Now tell me, Miss Trinket. What's piqued your curiosity here?"

"I just knew he'd win when they were having the interviews," she replied confidently.

"That's quite a bit of assertion for such a tiny thing," he sniggered.

She shrugged. "I can see it in his face."

"A child's intuition can be a remarkable thing," observed Rosie.

"That it can. That it can. Well, Miss Trinket, Rosie and I here have a small fortune invested in Shimmer. I can't honestly say I wish you luck!"

Effie giggled. "I know, sir."

"'Sir!'" he laughed again. "Cute as a button with manners fit for the President!"

"She's a peach!"

Effie blushed, wishing that one of her parents would intervene. She loved the attention, but her young age did not allow her to be entirely comfortable around strangers for extended periods of time.

The sound of the cannon interrupted the conversation, and all eyes flew to the giant screen in the viewing room. Then it immediately boomed again. Evidently, a boy from Four had tried to sneak behind the last tribute from Eight, planning on impaling him from the back. Eight heard the noise and spun around, holding his dagger in a defensive position. At his current speed, Four couldn't stop in time. He ran the other boy through as planned, but at the cost of his own life. The two bodies lay atop one another, drenched in the blood of both Districts.

Groans resounded throughout the room. Four was a popular district.

"One less for our kids to worry about," someone called. This lightened the mood, ridding everyone of almost all disappointment.

Nine.

* * *

The Trinkets excused themselves around 10:00 that night. They did have a small child, who was already awake far past her bedtime.

They tucked in Effie nice and cozy in bed and kissed her goodnight.

Effie closed her eyes, but determinedly stayed awake. She remained still until just before midnight, when she heard her parents close their door and turn off the lights. She gave them ten minutes to be fully asleep, then slipped out of her room.

She ran over to the telephone and began dialing. Her tiny, ten-year-old body was bursting with adrenaline. She glanced around and saw Raff, standing by the wall. She shrieked and slammed her hand over her mouth.

"What are you doing? You scarred me!" she demanded. Raff shook his head at her. "What are you going to do, tell on me?"

He gritted his teeth and walked away.

Dialing again, she took the phone into the hall closet, to further muffle her voice form her parents.

"Hello, Tribute Donation Services, how may I help you?"

The Capitol accent sounded foreign to her. "Um, hi, I want to sent a parachute."

The operator laughed. "Aren't you a bit young to be a sponsor, young lady?"

"Oh, um, my parents are sponsoring. I just wanted to call. I need to stop being so shy on the phone, my Mommy said." She wasn't really lying. That last part was true.

"Alright, please give the account number."

Effie retrieved a paper scrap from her pocket and punched the numbers onto the phone's screen, which then displayed a list of categories. It reminded her of a menu.

"Select your donation, and it will be sent immediately. Happy Hunger Games." The voice disconnected.

Effie stared wide-eyed at the list. She had the entirety of her childish savings in her account, totaling just over two hundred credits. She knew from bits of overheard conversation that this was the cost of a decent weapon from District Two and wanted to send Haymitch a new knife. His old one was currently at the bottom of a lake.

Sending him a new knife would cost as much as a house.

He had been cut severely the day before. She could send him bandages.

That would cost as much as a large swimming pool.

She began to grow angry then disheartened. Aimlessly, she scrolled and scrolled the lists, trying to find something she could afford. Even a bowl of soup or loaf of bread was hundreds more credits than she possessed. She could have asked her parents for money, and they would have given it to her. But she didn't want this to be from Mommy and Daddy. This was personal.

She was about to give up when she neared the bottom of the last list. For 215 credits, she could send three cinnamon cookies. They wouldn't help him win. They wouldn't sustain him or give him any sort of advantage.

She clicked the picture and watched her account decrease down to seven, which would have allowed her to buy her whole family cookies from the bakery.

Did she want to send a message with her purchase?

Yes.

But what would she say?

There wasn't room for more than a sentence or two. After a few minutes of thinking, she typed a quick blurb then rushed to the television. She wanted to see the parachute arrive.

It was the middle of the night, and the camera was scanning around to the different camps. Most were asleep, but Shimmer was on watch for her and Ovid's supplies, and another girl was stalking through the forest, looking for signs of exhausted victims.

The screen switched to an insomnious Haymitch, who was fidgety and jerky in the few moments of sporadic sleep he managed to achieve. The parachute landed within his reach, and he woke up instantly to the quiet rustling it caused in the leaves. Twisting around, he took the container with a confused look on his face. Then he panicked, thinking it was intended for someone else and that they were nearby. Finding this was not the case, he opened the package.

He laughed aloud, for the first time since he entered the arena. Effie liked the sound; it was strong and happy and free of his typical irony. Haymitch pulled out the card, and the camera spun from a rearview, so the audience could read it.

"I believe in you.

x E"

The camera view returned in time to capture his smirk, and he raised a cookie in the air in a toast. He took a bite, smiled at the sweetness and began to drift into sleep.

* * *

The next afternoon her mother felt ill, so the Trinkets sent their apologies and remained home for the day. During the Games, there was no school or work, but because of the prolonged holiday, Mr. Trinket began to feel uneasy.

"I have designs that need to be finalized and distribution files to sign," he explained to Felicity. "I won't be late, but I need to go to the office."

Effie asked if she could go with Gape. She loved her daddy's office. It had it's own spa pool and a whole table of her favorite snacks.

"There won't be anyone to watch you today, Effie. I'll be the only one there. I'll take you some other time; I promise."

This satisfied her, and she went to the living room. She was anxious to see what she had missed and needed to make sure Haymitch was alive. When she turned on the television, she quickly learned that his partner Maysilee had broken off the alliance, not wanting it to come down to the two of them.

Her mother was lying in bed with a headache, her father was working, and Effie was curled on the couch, face pressed into a pillow. There were six remaining tributes, and she was feeling extremely fearful for the life of her boy.

Her stomach began to grumble, so she called for Raff to make her lunch. The sun was low in the sky, and the cameras paneled over to Haymitch. He was walking to the cliff side that marked the edge of the arena.

"What are you doing?" she asked aloud.

He peered over the edge, seeing nothing but a several hundred-foot drop. Casually, he kicked a rock into the crevice. He looked around, grasping for some sort of purpose or inspiration, when the rock shot back towards him. He picked it up, smiled, and began hiking back to his shelter in a tree.

Two more died that night, before the sun had set.

Everyone was reasonably certain that this would be the final day of the games, which constituted an extravagant finale celebration. Felicity was feeling much better, so all the Trinkets made their way over to the party in the late morning, not wanting to miss a moment.

Tension was high. Shimmer and Ovid were two of the remaining four survivors, as was Haymitch and a boy from Four. Right now, there was a fifty percent chance that their beloved District would once again be honored with a victor. Several were betting on Ovid, but Shimmer was by far the more popular choice. Children ran around with their toy weapons, rooting for their District. Adults taunted one another over weather Ovid or Shimmer would conquer. Effie chewed on her nails.

Her mother swatted her hand. "Honey, don't do that."

"Yes, Mommy."

By noon, the game makers needed a bit more action. They began releasing snakes in certain arena areas and inducing flooding in others, forcing the tributes together. Not long after, Four found Ovid and Shimmer, who still maintained a weak partnership. He readied his spear and sprinted toward Shimmer. Seeing him advancing, Ovid pounced on Four's chest and began brutally beating him. Four managed to puncture Ovid's arm with the spear, but the wasn't enough to deter the Career. When Four could barely fight back, Ovid reached down, grabbed his head, and twisted sharply.

The cannon boomed.

The room was on pins and needles. District One would clearly be producing another victor.

Ovid, still hunched over his most recent victim, wiped the sweat from his brow. "Shim," he gasped, "can you do something about my arm?"

Wordlessly, she walked up behind him and decapitated him with her axe, using a single, swift motion.

The cannon boomed, and the roomed shrieked. Shimmer would win.

Rosie and Matte bounded over the Mr. and Mrs. Trinket. "Send our condolences to your daughter," commented Rosie. "She'll be so disappointed!"

Mr. Trinket laughed. "She'll survive."

So this was it, the finale between Shimmer and Haymitch. The world was on Shimmer's side. She was the favorite. She only needed one more kill, one more victory. Effie tried not to close her eyes.

Almost taunting her, Haymitch began to run. Shimmer sprinted after him. She was almost inhumanly fast, but the weight of her axe slowed her down. Haymitch kept a steady pace ahead of her, by about twenty feet. To most viewers, it looked like a lion chasing its prey. He ran because he had no other defense, but eventually she would overtake him. Victory would be hers.

He ran and ran, sweat pouring down his face, back, arms. His body was numb from pain and exhaustion.

Shimmer only needed to take him down. She had come so far. She always knew it would be her. Even as a child, she knew she would bring pride to District One. She would be the champion, the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell.

Effie was biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Adults waited with bated breath.

Suddenly, Haymitch began to slow. He was near the edge of the arena, where the endless ledge loomed ominously. He had no weapon. He faced Shimmer, giving her just enough time to aim and throw her axe. As it hurled toward his eyes, he threw himself to the ground. The axe disappeared over the edge, and Shimmer stood, panting. She looked around for less than a second, wondering what to do next when she heard it. The familiar wisp of metal through air. She knew what had happened. She looked at Haymitch and almost smiled.

Almost.

Over half a liter of blood goes to the human brain. When the skull is broken, it all pours out.

* * *

**Hello, again! I figured I might as well update the same day as publication, since I had the chapter written and all. I'll probably spend one more chapter on her childhood, but it'll be short. Or I might just do half a chapter... I'll figure something out. Anyway, thanks a bunch!**

**Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Random haikus? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

The Victory Tour had not yet begun by the time the Trinkets had all their possessions in boxes. Mr. Trinket could still easily run his business from the Capitol. As one of the most renowned jewelry designers in Panem, he would be well received and could continue to work in without much alteration. Mrs. Trinket explained that their new home would be different from District One. Instead of having a smaller building that they own, they would live in a large building with many other families. Each family lived on a different floor. These were called "luxury condominiums."

In all honesty, the impending move had little impact on Effie. Sure, she had friends in her District, girls from school and the neighborhood with whom she would have slumber parties and play games. But there was nothing really anchoring her to District One. There was not enough emotion with this place to cause her to regret leaving.

On the day of the move, the Trinkets were given an elaborate, teary-eyed farewell. It seemed as if hundreds of people were crammed into their soon-to-be-vacant home. Their belongings had been sent ahead via train and would be set up and waiting. Little girls and grown women scooped Effie into hugs, crying, "We're all going to miss you!" "Don't forget to write!" "I wish you didn't have to go!"

"Effie, say, 'Thank you,'" supplied her mother.

"Thank you."

After lunch and another round of goodbyes, a car arrived to take the family to the train station. Effie looked out the back window, at the crowd of people waving.

Out of a million citizens, one moved to a different District. It simply wasn't done.

* * *

Boarding the train, Effie gasped at the interior. District One was clean and wealthy, but this train car was pristine. Crystal glassware was set upon polished tables, and the chairs felt like clouds.

She wouldn't miss home.

* * *

"Sweetie, wake up," her mother prodded. Effie rubbed her eyes, not noticing that she had dozed off. Last time she looked around, the compartment was filled with sunlight. Now it was illuminated by soft lamps.

Her father picked her up and held her tightly. "We're here," he whispered.

Still drowsy, she drifted off to sleep as they walked to a car much more luxurious than the one that took them to the train station. After a quarter hour, the car parked, and the chauffeur opened the door. Again her father carried her. She noticed that a well-dressed man opened the door to the building and another pushed the elevator button to their floor. Half awake, she felt like she was flying, looking down on the ground floor from the ascending crystal box.

Mr. Trinket laid her down in her same soft bed and let her sleep the rest of the night.

The next morning, Effie glanced around, not expecting her new surroundings. It took her a few moments to orient herself. The space around her was entirely alien, but she had no idea how much her life was about to change.

* * *

Within a week, her parents had arranged play dates with near-by children and her wardrobe had been replaced. She was given her first pair of heels, pink sparkly things with an inch-high boost. It took her twice as long to dress herself in the morning. She asked to wear lipstick. She began making her own plans.

Sitting with her daughter and brushing her golden hair, Felicity began to wonder if she made the right choice.

"I love you, Effie," she murmured.

"And I love you, too, Mommy!"

She began to twist and curl Effie's hair into an elaborate bun. "Will you promise me something?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Keep your hair just the way it is."

Effie pouted. "But all the other girls have such pretty colors!"

Felicity smiled sadly. "It's important to me."

She looked confused. "Why?"

"I want to keep part of you just the way you are forever and always. Will you do that for me, honey?"

She didn't understand. "Yes, Mommy."

Felicity kissed the top of her head. "Good girl."

* * *

After a month, her voice changed. With her parents, she still sounded like a District One citizen. Outside, her voice was an octave higher.

After a year, he mannerisms completely changed. Her stride, her gestures and posture were all distinctly Capitol.

After five years, she could barely remember her previous life.

From her first day, she had been readily accepted. Her father's fame was certainly beneficial, but she had a natural charm that magnetically drew people towards her. She was beloved by peers and teachers. Neighbors invited the Trinkets over for dinner on a weekly basis to pick the brain of the illustrious designer and gawk over his beautiful little girl.

Every time someone complemented her star of a child, Felicity felt a wave of relief. She had introduced Effie like a kitten to a pride of lions, and miraculously they accepted her.

The Games seemingly existed for the amusement of the Capitol, and they were enthusiastically celebrated. Every year, Felicity and Gape watched the twenty-four children be presented to the nation and thanked whatever higher power might exist that their daughter was not one of them.

One evening, just before the reaping, the Trinkets were having dinner with Leporis Cronin, the head game maker, and a scattering of other central contributors. As usual, Effie was the youngest member of the elite party. Gape had been asked by Cronin to begin work on a creation for the upcoming 60th Hunger Games. This gave him two years to perfect the project, which would be more than sufficient.

"I have something very special installed for this year," he winked. Cronin was a tall, dark man with white designs covering his arms. He was wearing avocado green contacts, which matched his suit and hair. He looked excessively decorative sitting next to Mr. Trinket. Although well adjusted to Capitol ways, he maintained his professional, sleek look from District One and had no bodily modifications.

"I can imagine so," agreed Gape. "This year is your fifth anniversary as game maker, am I correct?"

"That you are," replied Cronin with a slight nod.

"And they have simply been the most marvelous five years the Games have ever seen!" trilled Effie, resuming her seat between her parents.

The table laughed and one woman raised a glass in agreement. The motion spread through the group like a wave. An Avox came behind Effie and offered to fill her champagne glass, but she smiled girlishly and politely declined.

"Oh, come now," teased Otto Jaldine, the designer coordinator, "we won't tell. What's a glass before you're of age?"

Effie blushed. "I'm old enough."

"She just turned eighteen last week," beamed Felicity. "It was quite the occasion."

"Goodness you look young," remarked Otto. "But here, have a birthday toast!"

She giggled. "No, thank you."

"Our little Effie prefers to keep her wits about her," supplied her father.

"Suit yourself," conceded Otto. "Eighteen, I wouldn't have believed it. That's quite the age to be. Have you done much thinking as to what you plan on pursuing for a career?"

"We might have the next great designer in our midst," one woman doted.

"You flatter me, Miss Scrygemore," piped Effie, "but I'm afraid I have all the artistic aptitude of an oyster."

"Even an oyster can make a pearl," replied her father with a smile.

Miss Scrygemore laughed. "You silly Trinkets and your jokes! Everyone knows that pearls come from coal, but with lots of heat and pressure!"

"I should be a pearl then by now," chimed an assistant game maker, earning a round of laughs.

Effie looked at her father with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement. She had to cover her mouth with a napkin to keep form laughing out loud. Gape slightly shook his head and looked away, closing his eyes and desperately trying not to burst out into hysterics over the utterly ridiculous lack of basic knowledge. Felicity tapped Effie's knee and gave her a stern look, which brought her back to her senses.

Otto noted, "I suppose I cannot vouch for your skills in drawing, but I can certainly attest to your artistic abilities. Look at this little girl! She's better than half my stylists!"

"Maybe you should be a stylist!" squealed a woman down the table. "Oh, you'd be so perfect!"

There was a general murmur of agreement, but Effie giggled again. "You think too highly of me. I just never grew out of playing dress-up."

The table laughed, but Cronin remained serious. "Effie, have you ever considered working with the Games?"

She was taken completely aback. Absolutely everyone in the Capitol aspired to be a game maker or stylist or publicist for the Hunger Games. The rest of the year – no, their entire livelihood- revolved around the month of Game play every year.

"I would love it, sir."

He nodded. "Now, and I hope you don't mind me discussing business at dinner, but as soon as you exceed participant age, you can begin a career in essentially any aspect of the Games."

Effie looked between her parents, who refused to meet her gaze. "I wasn't aware of that, sir." Feeling anxious, she reached for her water glass to sooth her nerves.

"And I happen to know of an escort who is retiring after this season."

Effie choked on her drink, which amused onlookers. Anyone with the passion and talent could train to be a stylist, or at least part of a team. A logical, visual and intuitive could design an arena. With the proper writing or designing skills and just enough luck, citizens could become journalists or publicists, emphasizing the Games.

Escorts were hand-selected.

There was an extensive list of criteria that very few met. You must be outstandingly personable, able to walk into a crowd of complete strangers and leave with them all loving you. You must be punctual, well organized and tactful. Escorts must be able to train their tributes, make them as comfortable and presentable as possible, and make the rest of the nation fall madly in love with them. Almost every night of the year, there would be meetings, conferences, parties and galas with officials and key contributors.

Most importantly, as a walking emblem for the Capitol, you must be in a perpetual state of flawless. Look the part.

Effie recovered from the surprise. "Oh, yes, I had heard rumors about a possible change next year."

"There are a thousand and one people who have been clawing tooth-and-nail for this position their entire lives."

"I can imagine so, sir."

"I want you to take over."

She wasn't sure how long she stared disbelievingly at Cronin. Long enough for everyone but her mother to chuckle.

Effie daintily cleared her throat. "Are you sure I'm the best candidate, sir?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't offer you this. I know you're modest and don't want to hear this, but you're young, beautiful, charming and clever. You're exactly what we need out there, and exactly who I want to represent the success of this nation."

She could hardly speak through the shock and smiles. "I would be honored, sir!"

"Excellent!"

There was a toast to Effie and her bright future as a team of Avox children delivered the main course.

Felicity couldn't swallow one bite.

* * *

**Hello, again! Thanks for sticking with me, and tell me what you think! Hopefully after this round of testing I can write more! ****Have a lovely day.**

**-Elle**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much to everyone for the support! This has been all kinds of fun, and I love you all. **

**Side note: I created a second Pottermore account, to see if it would be any different from my Beta. What's my name, you might ask? **

**MahoganyPixie13072**

**I could die happy with my life right now. Oh, I haven't mentioned this yet, but I don't actually own these people. So, there you have it. **

* * *

"Cheers, then, to the newest Capitol escort."

Effie clinked her glass to his and smirked. "You could at least attempt to sound genuine."

"I am, though. I am genuinely happy for you."

"Cinna, don't lie to me."

He tilted his head slightly to one side and looked her in the eyes. "I'm happy you are getting what you want out of life, nothing more, nothing less."

She smiled. "Thank you."

A few years older than herself, Cinna had been one of her closest friends since she moved to the Capitol. They met when she was fourteen, and he was astounded that she had gone four years in the city without altering herself. No hair dye, no tattoos, no implants or reductions. She was refreshingly natural.

"So will you do it?"

Cinna avoided her gaze and was silent for a moment. "I wish you wouldn't ask."

"I don't trust anyone else." A waiter walked by and refreshed their glasses.

He took a deep breath and studied her face meticulously. "I can't answer right now. Come over to my apartment tomorrow morning. We'll talk more about it then."

"Cinna!"

"If you want me to consider it, then you'll drop the subject. Now, what should we get for dessert?"

She pouted and looked down.

"You look lovely today."

As hard as she tried, she couldn't hide a smile.

* * *

The next day, Effie arrived at his building at 10:00 and was surprised to find that she had to open the door herself. It was significantly smaller than hers and much less ornate. She took the lift up to the third floor and knocked on his door. Upon entering, she gazed around, remarking how his home was a direct reflection of himself.

The whole space served as his studio. Walls were covered in patterns and sketches. Rolls of fabrics, spools of threads and bottles of all sizes and shapes covered every available surface. Even so, the space was immaculate.

"I won't change you," he began frankly.

"Or 'good morning,' as we used to say."

"Don't chastise me in my home while asking for my services." He cleared a couch of fabric samples and sketchbooks. "Sit down." She obliged.

He sat next to her and looked at her intently. She didn't like the feeling of being studied so carefully.

"Take your hair down."

"What?"

"Let me look at my canvas."

She reached up, unpinned her elaborate twist, and let her horribly natural hair fall. Cinna twirled a curl on his finger.

"I can't do it," he said simply. "It would be like taking a scalpel to a baby."

"Cinna, I can't look like this, not if I'm going to be an escort!" Her eyes began to water. "I'll be a laughingstock!"

"Have you asked your parents?"

"They don't understand. Please, Cinna, I need you."

He leaned back in the cushions, never taking his gaze off her. They sat in silence for several minutes.

"I will do it, but in my own way."

Her excitement ballooned than faltered. "What do you-"

"I'll give you the full Capitol makeover," she gave him sharp eyebrow raise. "I'll color you in, like a child's picture book. However, I will not alter your body. When you go to bed at night, I want you to have peaches-and-cream skin and hair like sunshine."

"It's not like sunshine. It's boring."

He shook his head. "I'll show you what to do, but you have to pay attention. Do you agree?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Follow me," he led her to a room full of paints and powders. It was an explosion of color. He pulled a tall chair in front of a wall-sized mirror. "Take off your dress."

She blushed furiously. "Cinna!"

He grinned. "Not like that. You're not my type. I need to show you how to apply these makeups everywhere." He handed her a towel. "Cover up with this. I need your shoulders, neck, and arms."

Undressed in the brightly lit, vibrant room, Effie felt like a bizarre doll.

"Now, let me think."

* * *

She sat in that room for hours. At one point, Cinna left, retrieved a sheet and covered the mirror with it.

"I only want you to see the final piece."

As he worked, he explained his actions. "I'm spreading one coat of powder over your neckline, then I'm going to add this more opaque coat on top of that."

"When you do this to your eyelids, be very careful not to bring the brush too low."

"Go slowly with the lips. You can always add, but removing is difficult."

"Use the smallest possible brushes to get the most detail."

He told her to wear pinks, light blues, lavenders. Baby colors, she thought.

"You dress beautifully, but I just want to enhance that. Avoid anything harsh and bold, like red or orange. I love what you do with flowers. Keep them."

The room went dark, and he turned on false lighting. He called her parents, making sure they knew she was safe and would be getting home late.

"I'm not going to change your wardrobe. You do that well on your own."

She laughed. "I'm glad I've done something right."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "I hate covering it up."

She looked at the strand apathetically. "What are you going to do with it?"

He brought out a series of boxes. "I'm going to put you in wigs."

"Will people think that's strange?"

"Yes. The men and women who dye their skin green and purple and blue, the children who get stomach reductions, the elderly who desperately try to hide their ages, they will think you are the strange one."

He displayed several different variations. "Right now, people like their hair long and wavy, as I'm sure you've noticed, to either let it down or create outrageous up-dos. I'm going to give you a series of styles and colors. You can change your hair with your outfit; everyone will be envious. Just check in with me every few seasons to update."

A few more tweaks and trims, and she was finished. She stood up eagerly, stretching out the cramps in her legs, but he told her to sit back down.

"I will slap you anytime I see in in shoes smaller than this." He gave her an intimidating four-inch stiletto. She slipped it on and enjoyed the height increase.

Cinna took several paces back and studied his creation. "Twirl for me."

She spun around and beamed. He walked over to the mirror and removed the sheet, attentively observing her expression. She could only gaze in awe.

She was perfect. He covered her mouth with her hand, noticing her perfectly manicured nails.

"Don't cry," he corrected. "You'll ruin my work."

"Thank you," she whispered, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Now go unleash hell, my little diamond."

* * *

When she walked in the door, she called eagerly for her parents. "Mommy, Daddy, come look!"

They walked to the entryway and stared at their little girl.

"What do you think?" she squealed. "Cinna gave me a makeover for being an escort! Don't you just love it?"

"Your hair…" whispered Felicity.

Effie laughed. "Don't worry, Mommy, it's fake! But look how the blue matches my dress!" There was a knock at the door, and several Avoxes entered, carrying her new supplies of makeup and wigs.

"You're stunning, darling," soothed her father. "They will love you."

Felicity nodded. "Without a doubt, but you have been gone all day. I want you in bed within the hour. We have an early brunch tomorrow. The mayor of District Two is visiting, and we don't want to keep her waiting."

Effie smiled. "I almost forgot! Thank you, Mommy. Good night!" She kissed both her parents on the cheek and practically skipped to her room.

As soon as her door shut and the bath water was running, Felicity broke down in tears. She had done everything, everything in her power to keep her daughter safe.

It had all been for nothing.

* * *

When she made the debut of her new look the next day, there was applause and staring and "Look how beautiful you are!"

Cronin was especially pleased. "I wanted you for the position before, but now I wish I could have you start this year!" He turned to Mayor Vipointe. "This is Effie Trinket. She's going to be our newest escort next year."

"I don't think I'm being too outlandish by asking if I can keep her for myself," Vipointe replied. "Is there any chance I'll be seeing more of you in District Two next year?"

Just then, it occurred to Effie that she never asked exactly where she would be assigned. Fortunately, Cronin supplied, "Actually, the escort for Twelve is the cherished member of our team we are losing, and Effie will be taking his position."

"Oh, lovely."

No.

What?

District Twelve?

No.

The lower districts served no purpose beyond sending kindling to the fire of the Games. They hardly ever won. They were effectively worthless. They didn't produce anything beautiful or glamorous or exciting.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she painted on her sweetest smile. "I'm so thankful for this opportunity! To even be considered as one of the dozen fortunate people who are able to serve as escorts is such an honor."

"You're too much! I certainly hope we'll be working more together soon," cooed Vipointe.

"As soon as a top-tier District opens up, I'm sure she'll be top of the list. I'd like to see her in One, actually."

The current escort for the first district entered fashionably late at that moment. "I'm glad to hear you're all so eager to see me off," he jested. Hammil Honeyman, the same man who served as the Capitol's representative before the Trinkets relocated, still maintained his prestigious métier. He still looked like a piece of candy wrapped in golden foil.

"Oh, we can still get a few good years out of you," countered Cronin. "Hammil, this is your newest colleague."

Turning slightly in her chair to face him, she extended a hand. "Effie Trinket," she introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

He kissed her hand, "Delightful."

"Hammil will mentor you for a time, so you can become adjusted to your new lifestyle and tasks."

"I'm greatly looking forward to it," Effie chimed.

"Likewise," he smiled and gave a tilt of the head. "So you'll be the replacement for District Twelve?"

Effie nodded. "Yes, sir."

He gave her a grin and an eyebrow raise. "How charming." The table chuckled, and Effie's expression fell. "Oh, darling, you mustn't think I'm poking fun! I assure you, we've all served our time at the bottom of the pyramid. I myself was in ten for several years when I was just starting out. Ghastly place, but look at me now!"

That boosted her spirits.

"Alright, I've had quite enough talk of work," Mayor Vipointe called. "Let's talk about arena designs! I know you can't give too much away, but let me guess!"

This didn't particularly concern Effie, so she let her mind wander. She wouldn't be stuck in Twelve. Everything would be fine.

* * *

That night, after a full day of meetings and planning, Hammil was finally able to return home, more or less. Being so close to the games, he had temporarily relocated to the ground floor of the twelve-story apartment complex dedicated to the tributes.

He laughed and smiled at passerby until the moment the door closed behind him. Then he reached for some abstract sculpture on a coffee table and hurled it at the wall. Hearing the noise, an Avox ran in to investigate. He shouted at it to leave.

After everything he had done for the Capitol, for the Games, for Snow, he would not be kicked aside like some mongrel stray. Did they think they could just replace him with this newer toy? No, not after all this, not after everything they had done to him.

If he had a shred of compassion left, he would have warned her. He would have told her to bow out gracefully, decline the offer, and run.

But he traded in his humanity years ago.

Instead, he did the cruelest thing possible. He smiled brightly at her. He wrapped an arm around her and took her to dinners and parties. He gave her a glimpse into the glamor that would soon engulf her life.

And a year later, covered head-to-toe in gold as usual, he sat back to watch her world burn.

* * *

**UPDATE: Oh, hi! I realized that I made a mistake in chapter three, so I went back to fix it. Just to clarify, Effie was 10 during the Second Quarter Quell, which puts her at 18 right now. She begins working with the Games during the 59th year. Sorry about any confusion! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry that updates have been few and far between. I'll be less neglectful after finals are over. Good luck to everyone else with exams!**

**-Elle**

* * *

There was less than a month before the Games. Until this point, her life consisted of being introduced to almost every Capitol inhabitant and officials from various Districts. Today, though, would be more serious. Effie sat in the living room of Raja Duncain, her predecessor.

Raja once had a dark tan complexion but now had a golden hue. His hair was long and unnaturally black, and he had false Kelly green eyes, lips and nails. Reclining into an overly large armchair, he discussed the final details of escorting in District Twelve.

"Honestly, Miss Trinket, I adored my time in Twelve! It was so much less stressful than being in Four!" he was smiling, but it gave Effie chills. His expression was stagnant, like his face was permanently fixed in place. "Of course," he continued, "I was a bit older than yourself when I began as an escort."

"Oh, really?" she chimed pleasantly.

"I was almost thirty, if you can believe I was ever that age."

"I don't one bit," she bantered. "You're not a day over twenty-nine, and don't tell me otherwise."

He chuckled. "Effie, doll, you're too much!" He picked up a mirror from the side table. "My stars, I could get rid of some of these wrinkles."

Bringing the conversation back around, Effie inquired, "Is there anything I should know in particular?"

Raja set down the mirror and thought. "Oh, yes, now let's think. Well, for one, find something fun to occupy your time on that train ride. It's a long one! And, honestly, get there as late as you can and leave as early as possible! It's not a place for our people. Oh, and you know of course that you'll be working alongside their victor."

Puzzled, she clarified, "Is there only one?"

"I wouldn't have believed it, either! I guess One, Two and Four have gobbled them all up for themselves! Anyway, you'll be working with a man named Haymitch Abernathy."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, who?"

"Mr. Abernathy," he repeated. "He won, what was it, eight, twelve years ago."

"Nine," she corrected.

"Yes, well," he gave a half eye roll, "don't expect too terribly much from him. Bless his heart, he tried to teach those kids every year, but they're just beyond help."

Effie could feel her heart falling into her stomach. "Well, maybe we'll have better luck this year."

"Yes, absolutely!"

* * *

Felicity couldn't help but smile at her daughter. She wanted to cry, hold onto her, and tell her to never leave.

"It's out of our hands now," Gape reminded her.

"You say that as if it ever was."

Even so, she had to laugh at the sight of Effie. While an Avox finished folding her tings into trunks and cases, she was jumping on her bed and screaming.

"I START AS AN ESCORT TOMORROW!"

This declaration apparently necessitated bounding from her bed to her vanity seat to the chair and back.

"Is the floor lava?" inquired her father.

"I don't care!" she screamed, now beginning to twirl around at dangerous speeds.

"You're going to break something, a lamp or a leg, maybe," he chastised, but he was suppressing laughter. Wearing her pink nightdress with her hair flailing about, she looked like the embodiment of girlish glee.

She sprinted over, grabbed his hands, and danced around. "I. Am. So. Excited!" she gasped between breaths.

Felicity snickered at that. "Are you really?"

Suddenly, Effie froze in place. "No, I've actually changed my mind. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Really?" Felicity almost demanded, hoping desperately this was true.

Effie threw back her head and laughed. "No! Are you crazy?"

Gape checked his watch. "It's really getting late, and you have an early start tomorrow."

"I can't possibly go to sleep, Daddy! I'm too excited!" Noticing that her clothes were all packed, she did a quick scan, making sure everything she would need for the next few weeks was ready to be taken to the penthouse. "Perfect!" she chimed before turning to the Avox much more seriously. "Just have these sent over in the morning. I need everything set up by the time I get back from Twelve." He nodded and left the room.

"Did you hear that?" she squealed to her parents. "'When I get back from Twelve'? I can't believe this!" Hair tangled and sweaty, Effie collapsed on her bed. "Can it be tomorrow?" she begged.

"It is 'tomorrow,'" Gape replied. "That's why I want you asleep."

She bolted up. "I start as an escort TODAY!" she screamed, then began to do some sort of summersault chain across her bed.

"What are you doing?" asked her exasperated mother.

"I don't even know! I just know that I'm so happy!"

Attempting to calm her down, Felicity asked, "Remind me what the plan is for the morning?"

Effie sat still, crossed her legs and looked up at her mother. "The car is going to pick me up at 9:00 and take me to the train station. Then I just sit there until I get to District Twelve. After that, we have the Reaping, and I come home! Easy as cake!" she glanced around. "Do we have any cake?"

"You're rapidly exhausting your daily allowance of nonsense," chided Felicity. At the same time, she sat next to her on the bed and combed her fingers through Effie's hair.

She giggled and hugged her mother. "Do you promise to watch me?"

"Everyone will be watching you, and we wouldn't miss it for the world."

Gape sat down next to Effie and wrapped an arm around her. "Just stay safe and come home in one piece when this is all over, alright?"

"I promise."

* * *

She barely slept that night, but Effie felt completely energized the next morning. She was dressed, travel bag in hand when her ride arrived. The train ride was lengthy and rather lonely. She was the only passenger, aside from the cars full of peacekeepers, but they made her feel uneasy. She had books to keep her company and access to a telephone. A few hours before arriving at the District, she rang for Cinna.

"I'm so anxious," she confided. "What if I make a compete fool of myself? I mean, the whole nation is going to be watching me!"

"You're not one for stage fright."

"I know I'm not! Never mind, I can't explain. It's ineffable."

"That would have been a good name for you, too, Effervescent."

Not for the first time, she regretted telling him her full name. "I'll hang up," she threatened.

"Good, I have work to do." He paused then laughed. "I can feel your scowl from a thousand miles away."

"I can't deal with you right now."

"I bet you're feeling less nervous."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Just talk to me. You have great stage presence, and if anything goes wrong, I'm the only one watching. I'll be the only one to see your heel snap as you fall on your face. Frankly, we both know that would make my day."

She giggled. "And I can't have that."

"There you go! Don't mess up, or you risk making me happy. Congratulations on your motivation. How much longer do you have?"

"The Reaping's scheduled for noon, and I have to be there about an hour beforehand. I guess we're pretty close."

She heard a strange voice, and Cinna murmured a reply. "Sorry, dear, I have to go. Wear your black pearl necklace today, by the way."

"Why?"

"They're coal miners; it'll give a good impression, like their livelihood but more elegant."

"Eww. So my pearls look like coal?"

She heard him sigh. "Good luck," then the line was dead.

* * *

Nervous but giddy, Effie gave herself a quick scan in a mirror as she left the train. After a short drive, she was at the stage. She jumped out of the car the second it stopped and immediately regretted it.

The place was blinding.

Everything was white and grey, and the sun reflected off virtually every surface. She blinked a few times to readjust herself. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Effie saw her first glimpse of District Twelve.

She almost cried.

Having spent some time outside the Capitol, she understood that nowhere could compare to its exuberance and vivaciousness, but this place was completely barren. She remembered from District One how children dashed to the stadium. People cheered and chanted, potential victors giving each other hugs and high-fives.

Here in Twelve, they walked like it was a death sentence. The people, the clothes, the city were all blanched and sickly. If there was a splash of color, it was probably mud.

Looking at the faces of the downtrodden, Effie couldn't help but wonder exactly why life was so unfair to them. Granted, coal mining is not the most exotic lifestyle, but it was completely necessary. Every other District used their products to fuel their factories or homes.

She shook her head. She didn't have time to be distracted.

A peacekeeper tapped her shoulder, causing her to jump. He looked young, just about her age.

"Sorry," he quickly apologized. "I'm supposed to walk you over to the stage. They're starting in a few minutes." His accent sounded strange to her.

"Oh, right, thanks."

She followed him in silence for a minute. Not being one to stand lack of conversation, she piped, "Is this your first year as a peacekeeper?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only a bit," she smiled, trying to be comforting.

"It's definitely an intimidating job."

"I know that feeling."

"Yeah, but at least I don't have to be on TV. Doesn't that scare you?"

"We'll see, I guess. Doesn't shooting people scare you?"

He shrugged. "Hopefully, I'll never know."

Maybe it was because they were both terrified, maybe it was because they had both found someone who understood their fears, or maybe it was because they had both been desensitized by their upper-District upbringings. Regardless, they looked at each other and dissolved into laugher.

He extended his hand. "Wade Galloway."

"Effie Trinket," she replied, returning the handshake.

They had reached the staircase, and she gestured toward it. "Here you are, Miss Trinket."

"Thank you, Mr. Galloway," she answered, giggling. Heels clicking, she walked up the stairs and toward her seat next to the mayor. Smiling, she introduced herself, but he seemed distant, like the embodiment of the gloom pervading the District. He checked his watch and walked over to the microphone, knowing it was time to begin. When the mayor stood, Effie noticed a man sitting next to his somber wife.

Her heart skipped a beat.

How could she have possibly forgotten? Haymitch Abernathy, the boy she wanted to win almost a decade ago, was a victor for District Twelve. She tried to contain her smile, only because she was on camera. She didn't want to look silly.

She glanced over again, but noticed something strange. Unlike the upper District victors, who wore their best outfits on Reaping day and sat with strength and dignity, he scanned the crowd anxiously, tapping his foot.

Effie was suddenly and fortunately aware that the mayor was concluding his speech. She honestly hadn't listened to a word.

"So I would like to introduce to you all for the first time, our new Capitol escort, Effie Trinket."

She was abruptly aware of the millions of viewers watching her at that moment. Quickly, she took a breath and remembered that she would only be speaking to Cinna. That's all, no one else.

"Just remember what they taught you," she reminded herself. "You'll be fine."

She flitted over to the microphone. Wade, standing near the front of the crowd, cave her an encouraging nod.

"Hello and happy Hunger Games, District Twelve!" she began cheerily. There was no reaction whatsoever. Keep it short; skip the speech. "It is an honor and a privilege to be a part of the fifty-ninth year of our national celebration with all of you! Now, let's see who our potential victor will be, ladies first!"

She reached into the vast, brimming bowl and extracted, "Sande Aldjoy!" She looked out into the crowd and watched a short, brown-haired girl slowly make her way up to the stage. Then, from the second bowl, "Cley Flamsteed!" was summoned. He was younger than Sande, by two or three years. "Ladies and gentlemen, our District Twelve competitors for Panem's 59th Hunger Games! Well, go on, you two, shake hands."

Almost instantly, they were escorted off stage, the tributes to the back room for farewells and Effie immediately to the car. Finally alone, she began noticing how bizarre this whole Reaping had been. No one clapped. No one cheered. Where was the celebration and camaraderie? The whole ceremony felt like a funeral. Effie quickly dabbed the tears from her eyes. Was this all her fault? Was she really so awful?

Before she had time to dwell on her self-pity, the doors opened and Cley and Sande entered. Effie beamed but then noticed their tear-stained faces. She turned to Sande, "Honey, what's wrong?"

Sande shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. "I'll never see them again."

Effie felt a fist clench around her heart. She held the girl's hand tightly and whispered, "It's my job to make sure that's not true."

* * *

At the sight of the endless array of food on the train, both children almost cried. They stuffed their faces before scurrying off to their rooms. As soon as they were gone, Effie snatched up the phone to call Cinna.

"You were perfect," he reassured her.

"I didn't feel perfect. Everyone was so… dead." She could feel her eyes watering again.

"That wasn't your fault. That's just life down there."

"They just want to go home, Cinna," she choked momentarily. "And so do I."

Effie heard the door swish open. Thinking it was Sande or Cley, she quickly said goodbye to her friend. She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, still facing the window.

"Well, honey, is there anything I can do for you?" she inquired with as much pep as she could muster.

"No thanks, sugarplum, I think I'm alright."

Startled, Effie spun around and stared wide-eyed at her childhood hero. "Oh my gosh," she gasped.

"I tend to have that effect on people," he smirked.

Haymitch looked exactly as she remembered him from nearly a decade ago, yet he was completely changed. He must be twenty-five now and appeared to have grown several inches since his victory. Effie couldn't help but notice his athletic build, which looked even more lean and muscular than during his tour. He was clean-cut but very much maintained his Twelve mannerisms and etiquette, or lack thereof.

"Mr. Abernathy, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

He gave her another smirk, replied, "Likewise," and turned to find a seat. "So, you're first Reaping, huh? It could've been worse."

She blushed furiously. "What gave me away?"

He burst into hysterics before looking her over and sighing, "Damn, you're just a kid."

Her eyes darkened, and she crossed her arms. "I am perfectly capable of doing my job and only hope the same can be said for you, Mr. Abernathy."

There was an unreadable smirk on his face. She looked like a cookie-cutter Capitol girl, but there was a definite fire to her. There was a passion in her that he couldn't help but admire and envy.

"Let's get to it," be began, patting the seat next to him. "Now, I know these kids. Sande's dad taught her how to trap and stalk a deer before she could walk, and Cley's parents have a pretty decent farm. He knows his plants. They're not going in completely blind."

Effie smiled. "We can work with that."

Haymitch felt his pockets and looked around. "Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Of course."

For the next two hours, Effie learned everything she could about the tributes. Where in Twelve did they grow up? How much school have they completed? Do they have many friends? Are they family-oriented? What can they already do, and how can we make that better? They wanted these two to have the most competitive edge possible.

The sun was lowering in the sky, and a few Avoxes began setting the table for dinner. Drawn by the smell of hot food, the terrified tributes followed the servers. At dinner, Haymitch wasted no time discussing strategy.

"I only get a few days with you kids, and most of that's spent with trainers and stylists. So listen up."

Having nothing to contribute, Effie sat back and listened attentively. Honestly, she couldn't believe her luck. Sande and Cley didn't look like much, but if what Haymitch said was true, they stood a fighting chance. It was her first year as an escort, and she was working side-by-side with her childhood hero and might be working with the 59th victor.

Everything was perfect.


End file.
